


Fixed Point

by Frumpologist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Draco Malfoy: Unspeakable, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hermione Granger: Unspeakable, Humor, Magical History, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-12-30 04:19:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18308063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/pseuds/Frumpologist
Summary: Draco and Hermione are Time Unspeakables who travel through time to stop anachronists from using illegal time travel to change the course of history.Their adventures lead them through the whole of history and the unwritten expanse of the future. Hermione learns about the History of Magic and Draco learns about science, Muggles, and falling in love.However, there are fixed points in time, events so important that they cannot be altered. Hermione Granger’s tragic life as an Unspeakable is one of those points, and nothing Draco can do will change the path they’re forced to follow.





	Fixed Point

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my new WIP, everyone! I’m super excited about this and can’t wait to share it with you! As of now, I don’t have a posting schedule sorted, but will try to maintain a once per week update on Sundays. 
> 
> Much love to my sounding board, the amazing Pronunciation_Hermy_One <3 Without her encouragement, I probably wouldn’t have plotted this beast. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable here and that is the most serious lament of my life. Places being bigger on the inside, spoilers, and the inspiration for Draco’s glasses come from Doctor Who. A scene from the show inspired this whole fic and I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention it.

**Level Nine, Department of Mysteries**

**September 2004**

Sensible, confident, clever Hermione Granger strode purposefully through the dimly lit corridor with a square trunk in her hand and the soft click of heels echoing around her. Her hair was pulled in a neat bun at the back of her head and a periwinkle muggle dress clung to her hips as she passed door after door until she reached her destination. Her fist clunked against the door, knuckles rapped an inconsistent beat as she waited for her new head of department to greet her.

What she found instead was a platinum shock of hair atop a thin, pinstripe suited body. The knot of his tie was perfectly centered and dark navy against his throat. His lips rose — a genuine kindness — and he stepped aside to allow her passage through the doorway.

“Malfoy,” she acknowledged him primly as she set her trunk to the side of a wooden desk. “You’re early.”

“It’s generally preferable to tardiness.” His chin dipped as he offered her a seat. When she sat, she noticed the warmth it still held— obviously his seat. “You’re barely on time.”

“But on time nonetheless,” she sighed lightly and granted him a smile. “I suppose punctuality is something that’s forced onto us at the Academy.”

“If a Time Unspeakable isn’t punctual—”

“— the world will suffer.”

It was one of the many rules of time travel that they’d learned together over the past several years. Together, she meant loosely, because she hardly gave Draco Malfoy the time of day at The Academy of Time. Sure, they’d studied together occasionally and perhaps they’d shared a drink amongst other friends in training. But they were not friends. Acquaintances.

“Which genius decided to pair us together?” He didn’t sound displeased, quite the opposite in fact.

Draco pulled out the second chair and perched himself on it. He managed to look the part of an aristocratic Malfoy, all angles and sharp cheekbones, and platinum hair that looked perfectly maintained and devil-may-care concurrently. He unhooked a button of his deep blue suit and hooked an ankle over his knee. As he latched onto that ankle, Draco smiled over at her. Gray eyes light and sparking with undiscovered adventure.

“Well,” Hermione started with a shrug, as if she’d considered this very thing — and she had when they’d both graduated with honors. “I suppose as the top two in the Academy, it’s only natural.”

“Time is volatile,” he reminded her in a plain debating tone. He quoted one of their professors and she couldn’t stop the way her lips curled at the corners. “Our relationship is hardly tranquil.”

Again, she shrugged. “The Ministry makes a lot of decisions of which I’m not privy to the rationale. Perhaps this is a test.”

“You should know, Granger,” he leveled her with a serious gaze and dropped the volume of his voice so that it took on a hushed quality, “I don’t intend to fail.”

“Then we should be perfectly well suited for whatever our first mission is.”

She held her hand out to him, an offering of peace they’d never quite made before. Draco seemed to inspect it for a moment, letting his eyes flick between her dark, brown stare and the proffered hand outstretched toward him.

“Alright,” he agreed with a firm nod and a tight smile as he gripped her hand. “Who would have ever thought: Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy saving the world together?”

Her professionalism wavered and she snorted through a laugh. As their eyes met, she found something she’d never witnessed before: Draco Malfoy’s charming smile. She’d seen his sneer, his smirk, his grin, his amusement. But this, this was something altogether different and startling. This was the beginning of friendship.

And she wasn’t sure she was ready.

“Ah, Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy.”

Hermione yanked her hand from his grasp and placed it back into her lap with the other. His smile dropped and she cleared her throat to remove the remaining humor lodged in it.

“Welcome, welcome. My, you both come with stunning accolades from your mentors.”

A short man in a white suit bustled around the desk and shuffled through a stack of papers within a folder. He remained quiet for several minutes as his eyes swept left and right over the written words. He made a few noises —- mmhmm and ah-ha and clicks of the tongue — before stuffing the papers back into the yellow folder and placed his meaty hands on top of it.

“I am Galileo Finch, Master at Arms over the Room of Time in the Department of Mysteries.” He glanced at them each in turn with a small upturn of the lips. “We run a very consequential operation here and before we can begin, there are several documents you need to sign, all of which are legally binding with blood magic.”

Hermione was unfazed by the declaration. Their professors at academy prepared them for the sacred rites they’d perform in order to find employ. Secrets were at the top of the list and it’s nothing Hermione was unprepared to face. She held many of her own secrets already. What were a few more?

“Excellent, not a flicker of fear!” Mr. Finch’s laugh bellowed through the small space. “You would be surprised how many prospective Unspeakables come here without the faintest idea about the sacrifices we make.”

“Pardon me, sir, but perhaps none of them have already made the sacrifices we have.” Draco’s jaw clenched, she noticed out of the corner of her eye, but the tone was nothing short of professional.

His pronoun choice also didn’t escape her notice. Perhaps they truly were turning over a new leaf.

“Indeed,” the department head agreed. “Let’s begin, then. _This_ is the form to release the Ministry’s liability should you get lost.”

“Lost,” Hermione repeated as she pulled her wand from a hidden slot within her dress. “How often do your agents go missing?”

Finch waved his hand vaguely over the paper. “Far less than I’d expect, actually, but that’s not to say that it couldn’t happen. And this form is to provide the Department of Mysteries with indemnity should one or both of you become — er, addled.”

“Addled.” Draco swallowed around the word and she refused to turn her gaze to him, lest she show her own concern at the choice of word. “And is that typical?”

“Eh, not particularly,” Finch wavered with another flip of his hand. “If you’d be so kind as to draw your own blood and deposit it into the ink pots in front of you.”

Hermione knew what was coming and just as she drew a shallow line over the palm of her hand, she watched Draco do the same. She squeezed her fist over the ink pot and watched the beads of blood dribble into it before turning back to Draco and finding him watching her. His eyes followed every little drip of her blood. She wondered if he finally saw it, the similarity of their blood — pure versus dirty — now that it stared him quite literally in the face.

“Find something interesting, Malfoy?” She pinched her lips and raised one brow in his direction.

“No.” His voice was harsh as if dry and he turned away quickly. “Just didn’t expect that you’d be so quick to sign a document in blood, that’s all.”

“We were told what would be expected of us. This is no surprise.” She sealed the gash on her palm with a precise healing charm and grabbed a quill from Finch’s desk. “My blood is hardly too precious to spill.”

“That was a low blow, Granger.” He performed a healing spell on his hand. “I’m not— it’s been five years and—”

“Is there something here that I should know before we continue?” Finch’s voice sliced through their tension. “Personal animosities have no place in the delicate work of the Time Unspeakables.”

“No, sir,” Hermione whispered more to Draco than to Finch.

“My apologies, sir,” Draco elaborated kindly, “I misunderstood the moment.”

Satisfied, Finch continued to flick through documents outlining the various clauses and insurances that the Department of Mysteries required for their employees. Hermione didn’t flinch once as she signed away many of her freedoms and she was surprised to see that Draco signed just as easily.

“Now, it is customary for The Academy to instruct you through theoretical and practical time travel. You should know how to move through time, and I assume that you brought with you the talisman you will each carry on the job?”

Hermione’s fingers flew to her throat where a rose gold pendant sat on a thick, rope gold chain. A half-moon glittered off the torchlight as her fingers clasped the delicate charm. She smiled as it warmed beneath her touch. At her side, Draco rolled the cuff of his sleeve and displayed a silver rope chain that held its own charm. She couldn’t stop her curiosity and peered over rather conspicuously to see what charm he’d chosen. Hanging close to the pulse point on his wrist was an infinity symbol carved in silver. His fingers tugged on it and a small smile quirked his lips.

“Very well, wonderful,” Finch mumbled as he pushed away and leaned back in his wooden chair. “You have both traveled through time previously, correct?”

“Yes sir,” Hermione rushed to answer. “Once at Hogwarts in third year and—.”

“I knew it!” Draco’s shout made her jump and her hand flew down to her heart as she turned to him. “I knew there was something! There was no way you could have made all those classes. It was impossible.”

“I do impossible things all the time, Malfoy.” She grinned at him as his mouth hung open. “Try to keep up.”

“Sweet Circe, Theo thought I was mad.” Draco shook his head with a good natured laugh. “So many things make so much more sense now.”

“Remind me to tell you about the time we spied on you in Knockturn Alley.” She bit her lip and her eyes danced playfully to his.

He snorted out a laugh. “I feel as if my life is coming into sharp focus.”

“Happy to help, Malfoy.”

“And you, Mister Malfoy, I assume you have traveled through time previously?” Finch leveled a stare at him.

“I have, sir.” Draco nodded stiffly. “In the Academy, it was part of our practical coursework.”

“And what did you witness?”

Hermione perked up, listening intently.

“The graduation of Merlin from Hogwarts.”

The way he spoke the words, with such veneration, caused even Hermione’s breath to hitch. She hadn’t thought to witness such a moment in history. Instead—

“And Miss Granger?” His brows flicked up into his receding hairline.

A blush crept onto the apples of her cheeks and her eyes dropped to a spot of blood on the edge of the last piece of parchment she signed.

“The Queen of England’s coronation in 1953.”

If either of them thought she was ridiculous for her chosen world event, neither said anything. Instead, Finch pushed out his chair and stood from his desk. Being quite a portly man didn’t stop him from moving with the grace of a cat. She wondered if those were the reflexes he honed in the field and if she one day would be as fluid in her movements.

“I will show you to the Time Unspeakable quarters and will allow you to familiarize yourself with our little home away from home.”

Finch moved around the desk and led them from the room, but not before Hermione ducked to the side and grabbed the trunk she’d hauled into the office. As they made their way down a short corridor, he continued over his shoulder.

“I hope you’ll find your accommodations sufficient.” He twisted a handle and opened another door. It led into another small corridor with six closed doors. “You’ll be expected to live here for the remainder of your employ.”

Neither Draco nor Hermione showed any amount of surprise at this news. Hermione had researched the position thoroughly and knew what was expected of her and it seemed that Draco had done the same. Because of the nature of their work as Unspeakables and the constant in and out through time, staying anywhere else was ill advised. It was the one part of her new profession that didn’t sit well with her friends. It would probably sit just below ‘working alongside Draco Malfoy’ once they discovered that extra tidbit as well.

“The only two rooms left available are these two.” Finch gestured to the two closest, side by side, doors. “As they’re identical, you needn’t fight over them. I’ll allow you to settle in now. Please meet back at my office in an hour for a full tour of the department.”

She did a weird half-dip sort of thing that might have been a curtsy if it wasn’t so awkward. Draco lifted a brow and chuckled as Finch strolled away.

“Do you have a preference, Granger?”

He leaned against the nearest wall and buttoned his suit jacket back up. She never really noticed how tall he’d grown. The length-wise pinstripes on his suit served to accentuate his height and his lithe frame. As her eyes lazily trailed up the length of him, she froze under the scrutiny of his eyes, whose flecks of blue were so pronounced thanks to the color of his suit. They were also focused intently on her, so razor-sharp that a blush stained her cheeks before she could stop it.

“I’ll just… take this one.” Hermione canted her head toward the nearest door and closed herself within the room as quickly as her heels would allow.

She could hear his laugh even as he opened and closed the door to his own room.

Her back pressed flat against the door as she surveyed the space she’d occupy until the end of her career as an Unspeakable. Bigger on the inside, she noticed. The small hallway belied the enormity of the rooms it housed. What she found herself in was nothing short of a fully functional flat. A spacious living area colored with neutral, beige walls broke off into an open kitchen with eat-in dinette. There was a hallway off to the side where she assumed there’d be a loo and bedroom. It even came equipped with a coat closet and large window. She guessed that the window didn’t actually overlook Muggle London, but as she approached it she found that, in fact, she had quite an excellent view of Whitehall from the ninth floor.

Hermione pusher away from the door with her trunk clutched in her hand. She wobbled as she kicked off her heels and padded onto the soft cream colored carpet. It was such a difference to how she’d been living during school — cramped into a tiny flat that wouldn’t have had running water without a little witchcraft to help her out.

It smelled clean, too. A barely noticeable hint of lemon grew only a smidge stronger as she stepped closer to the kitchen. Perched on the counter was a stack of essentials; soaps, dishes, and cloths, among other things. What struck her eye was the official-looking letter that bore her title.

_Time Unspeakable, Room II_

She dipped down to place her trunk on the floor at her feet and snatched the letter with a small smile at the addressee. Her — Hermione Jean Granger — an actual Time Unspeakable.

She took a moment to squeal to herself and bounce from foot to foot as she tore open the Ministry seal and scanned the note meant for her.

_To the new inhabitants of Room II —_

_My name is Bellona Bagshot and it is my pleasure to welcome you to the Unspeakables. Tradition dictates that the previous owner of the room leaves something behind for their successor along with a note to welcome them to the elite group of wizards who will one day have a profound effect on history._

_Welcome, fellow traveler._

_My gift to you before I depart for retirement is an item of my own design. Well, to call it mine is not strictly true, but I’m disallowed from explaining the true origin ‘lest I become an anachronism and will find you chasing me through London._

_Don’t laugh. As keepers of time and history, you might think we have no real use for such a mundane object. But, I promise you that it’s more than a watch. This watch doesn’t just tell time. It tells_ everything _._

_You’ll see what I mean. Wouldn’t want to ruin it for you._

_Spoilers._

_All the best,_

_Bellona Bagshot_

 

Hermione laughed as her eyes fell on something she’d missed before. Her fingers closed around a silver watch, it’s face unlike anything she’d ever seen before. It was black, but silky, behind a clear cover. The size, she discovered, would cover the whole top of her wrist. In clear, white script, the watch sprang to life.

_Finch: 45 minutes._

A loud bang on her door pulled her gaze from the watch as she jumped backwards.

“Granger.” Malfoy sounded annoyed even through a thick wall. “Open the door, Granger. I have a problem.”

She did and she wasn’t disappointed.

Draco Malfoy stood in front of her seething with the most petulant pout on his face. But that wasn’t all that donned his face. He also wore a pair of thick framed, black spectacles perched on his nose. In his hand, he held a crumpled piece of parchment.

“Oh! You found your letter!” Hermione waved her own in front of his face with a grin. “What did your former occupant leave you?”

“Are you joking? Tell me you’re joking.” Draco’s fingers clenched further around the parchment as he pointed a long, index finger at his face. “I was left with _this_ abomination.”

Hermione snorted. “They’re only eyeglasses, Malfoy.”

“Only—” Malfoy scoffed and marched into her flat without being invited. She’d have to remember put up some type of ward against him. “I have perfect vision, Granger. Pureblood. Wizard. Perfect. Vision.”

He spun on one of his dragonhide shoes and looked at her with the most deranged, waspish gleam in his eyes.

“Well, I’m pretty sure I’m going to have access to my choice of time device,” Hermione told him calmly and held out her watch for him to see. “But I still was left a watch. Did your letter explain the eyeglasses?”

“ _For use on your adventures, may they bring you clarity,”_ he recited as if from memory. “They’re bloody useless.”

She couldn’t stop herself. Hermione dissolved into a peel of laughter.

“Such sympathy.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized through her laugh, “but you’re still just an overgrown child, aren’t you?”

“I—” He spluttered and then stomped his foot against the ground and she fell into more fits, doubled over and clutching her sides. “This isn’t funny! You were left a watch that’s worth more than a flimsy pair of useless glasses.”

“They obviously mean something more,” Hermione said after a moment of trying to gulp back her chuckles. “It’s probably something very clever that you can’t see yet because you’re being an ungrateful brat.”

“You’re mouthy,” he told her eventually, after leveling her with a very Malfoy-ish glare and rolling his tongue against his cheek. “What did your letter say, then?”

“I have a watch that doesn’t just tell time.” Hermione held the item up for him. It currently indicated _Finch 25 minutes._ “According to Bellona Bagshot, it tells everything. Whatever that means.”

“Bellona Bagshot?” Draco fiddled with his glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose. “ _The_ Bellona Bagshot? The witch who’s credited with neutralizing Gellert Grindelwald?”

“What?” Her face furrowed. No, she’d never heard that rumor before. “I think you mean Bathilda, her grandmother, and no, she housed Gellert for a time, but it was Professor Dumbledore who—”

Draco’s lips twitched. “Am I to believe that brainy, swotty, Hermione Granger doesn’t know the true history behind the fall of the greatest Dark Wizard of all time?”

She scoffed. “I think you’ll find that I helped defeat the greatest Dark Lord of—”

“You really don’t know,” he muttered, brows raised in surprise. “We studied Bellona Bagshot in The Academy. You didn’t take the Prophets class, Granger?”

A blush colored her cheeks and she distracted herself by clasping the watch around her wrist. It formed an unending binding, no clasp to be seen as it fitted itself to her.

“No,” she said finally, a challenge in her tone that dared him to mock her for it. “Prophecies are guesswork and not at all accurate unless someone _makes_ them accurate.”

She wasn’t sure why he smiled at her, but it made her scowl because it felt condescending.

“Bellona heard a Prophecy made by a seer in New York,” Draco explained with his arms folded across his chest. “It spoke of Grindelwald using a stone of resurrection to pull an army of former Dark wizards into the present.”

Her eyes widened. She’d never heard such a tale; all she knew of Grindelwald was that he’d been defeated by Albus Dumbledore. None of what Draco said was familiar. Had she made a mistake by skirting the Prophets class? Something clenched in her gut.

“But prophecies are cursory,” she argued quietly. “They’re so vague that they could pertain to anyone at any time.”

“They’re a subtle art form, Granger.” Draco uncrumpled his letter and skimmed the page again. “Even Taras Twelvetrees mentions prophecies to me, see?”

He handed her the letter and she snatched it from him.

“Taras Twelvetrees was brilliant!” Her eyes darted across the parchment as she spoke. “He single-handedly stopped an anachronist from overthrowing the King Charles II!”

“Muggle history?” Her eyes snapped to his. “I never understood the monarchy.”

“You, Draco Malfoy, never understood how people of certain bloodline could be born to privilege?”

She knew it was the wrong thing to say when he grabbed the paper from her hand and stalked from her flat without another word. Perhaps she’d overstepped. He’d proven that he was no longer _that_ wizard a very long time ago. But, he’d been so petulant and he’d poked fun at her for missing that stupid Prophets class. Hermione couldn’t help herself.

With so many classes to take, of course she opted to skip the one that interested her the least. Honestly if the class was so important, they should have made all classes mandatory.

Thoughts like that were precisely why she was called a swot. Hermione sighed.

“I need to know more about Bellona Bagshot,” she said to no one in particular.

Her watch whirred and came to life. Out of its face rose a translucent blue bust, a woman with pin straight hair and a button nose. She spoke to Hermione in a clear, crisp voice.

‘ _Bellona Bagshot was a Time Unspeakable from the year 1932 until her retirement in 1992. Her greatest achievement was the successful seizure of a modified stone of resurrection before the Dark Wizard Gellert Grindelwald—‘_

“Hell’s bells!” Hermione stared at the figure with her mouth hanging open. “What did I say? Oh, Merlin, What did I say!”

She clapped her hand over the figure and it went straight through her hand. It continued to speak but with her blood pounding through her ears, she could hardly hear it and certainly she couldn’t catalogue it in her mind for later. Instead she’d tested out how to power it down; tapping, poking, pressing — nothing worked.

‘ _In 1962, Bagshot was instrumental to the well being of the soon-to-be-famous John Lennon, who would go on to become one fourth of The Beatles.’_

“Fu—“

“Granger!” Malfoy burst through her door. She’d really need to ward it if he had no care for the privacy of others. “Time to—“

‘ _In the year 2212, Bagshot—”_

 _“_ What are you doing?” He peered at her watch and the figure hovering over its face. “Is that Bellona— what sorcery is this!”

Hermione groaned. “It’s the watch. I don’t know how to turn it off or make it stop.”

“Have you tried asking it nicely?” He wasn’t serious, but patronizing as he watched her shake her wrist. “I know that’s a hard concept for you, Granger, but sometimes others respond to kindness more than—”

“You’re such a git, Malfoy,” she hissed and then chewed her lip and begrudgingly _tried_ his suggestion. “Er, _watch_ , could you please stop talking?”

The blue figure disappeared immediately.

“How did you know?” She glanced at Draco.

He shrugged. “I imagine you’d done everything except the one thing normal people might start with.”

“ _Normal_ people?” She fumed, her voice raising in volume as her blood pressure soared. “Who the hell starts with asking an object to kindly shut up?”

Draco held up his hand. “Wizards are known for making objects sentient. Why wouldn’t they respond to niceties?”

“This is ridiculous.” She shook her head and then smiled down at the watch. “But it’s also kind of cool.”

“How does it work?”

“I asked about Bellona Bagshot and it just sort of…” Hermione waved a hand vaguely over the face of the watch, “sprang to life and began to dictate facts about her.”

“Huh.” He stood closer to her than they’d ever been before as they both looked down at her semi-sentient watch. “Ask it something else, I want to see.”

_Finch. Now._

“Bollocks,” Hermione said instead. “We’ve got to go. What did you come here for?”

“To get you so we could go back to Finch.”

“You— you weren’t just going to go without me?”

Draco smirked as he led her from the room. “We’re partners. Don’t mistake it for fondness, Granger.”


End file.
